


Happiness is a warm gun

by revanbowie



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Consensual Underage Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-02 18:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11515440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revanbowie/pseuds/revanbowie
Summary: Tony is in a very dark place. Peter’s attempts to help him lead them both to an even darker place they hadn't contemplated before.





	1. Blackout

**Author's Note:**

> Please read: unfortunately, English is not my first language. I apologize for any mistake you'll find in the text. I hope they're not too many and they don't prevent readers from enjoying the fanfic!

Peter yawned without even covering his mouth: the perks of working alone and far from Aunt May’s eyes. There wasn’t much else he could do that night, after all: he had been working for the past six hours and it was already completely dark outside. Time to go home and get some homework done.  
He took his phone out and thought about sending Happy a message, as he always did when he was ready to go home. He really liked spending time in Stark’s lab, trying out all his ideas and building things he could only dream about some months before, when he used to fight in his shabby suit. It was the coolest thing ever, really.  
But it would have been even cooler if Stark was there. Using his equipment was amazing, but he could do with a little bit of help. Well, not help – he was doing great on his own – but advice. Guidance. Maybe another test. He was totally ready for that, he would have rocked it.

The arrangement had been going on for weeks at that point: Happy would pick him up at school almost every day and bring him to Stark’s personal house, where he was allowed to use the lab to experiment his own designs for the suit and for additional tools. When he was tired, he would call Happy again and ask to be taken home. Stark called Aunt May before it all started, one week after Peter was offered a place in the Avengers, to be sure she was okay with another mysterious internship. She believed him and consented, because come on, who can really object to anything when Tony Fucking Stark phones you?  
But Peter never saw Stark again after the latest test. He never seemed to be at home: he was probably spending most of his time at the Avengers Mansion, trying to rebuild what had gone lost after Germany.

Peter was just about to send his usual message to Happy when his enhanced hearing caught the sound of glass shattering at least three floors up from where he was.  
“Happy?” he stupidly called but he immediately realized that if he was three floors up there was no way he could hear him.  
He wasn’t allowed anywhere else in Stark’s house – Happy had told him thousands of times – just in the lab. But what if something had happened and Happy was in danger?  
Trying to listen carefully to any other noise coming from upstairs, he tentatively moved towards the stairs and started going up. When he reached the ground floor he heard another loud noise, which sounded like another glass object being shattered.  
“You forgot the suit!” he muttered to himself, picturing it on the slab downstairs inside his backpack and wondering if there was some kind of award for the Dumbest Superhero Ever. Because he was certainly going to win, there was no competition.  
When he reached the first floor, he heard glass rattling, coming from a room whose door had been left ajar. Holding his breath, he slowly opened it and peered inside. It wasn’t difficult at all to pinpoint the source of the loud noises, and it wasn’t Happy.  
It was Tony Stark, lying on the floor surrounded by two smashed glasses and one broken bottle of scotch. His right hand was covered in blood and he looked completely wasted.

Peter opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. He shouldn’t be there, a voice inside his head reminded him, he should be downstairs or on his way home in Happy’s car. Yet, Stark needed some help and now that he knew he couldn’t just turn around and leave like nothing happened.  
“Mr Stark!” he called, running towards him and falling on his knees, carefully avoiding the broken pieces of glass.  
Stark opened his eyes and looked at him like it was the first time they met. Peter didn’t even recognize the usually self-confident and brilliant man who always seemed in control of himself. “What are you doing here?” Stark mumbled with difficulty, struggling to keep his eyes open.  
Peter hesitated. “I was working in the lab downstairs but…”  
Without even listening to his reply, Stark was trying to get up. He repeated “I’m good” three or four times before falling on the floor again. He stained his jeans and the floor with the blood coming from his hand but didn’t seem to care. It was strange and dreadful to see him like that.  
Stark didn’t need pity, though. He needed help and helping was Peter’s job.  
“We need to do something about the hand”, he told himself more than to Stark, who wasn’t even looking at him anymore, and went in search of a bathroom. After all the times he had been beaten, bruised and injured, he learned how to take care of small wounds. No big deal.

There were six rooms on that floor only, at least three of them being double bedrooms. One room had an enormous screen like a cinema and another one had a dance floor. Everything seemed deserted and Peter tried to orient himself in such an enormous place. Maybe he should have just called Happy, but he wasn’t sure Stark wanted to be seen by him at the moment.  
He tried five of the six doors of the hallway before finding a magnificent bathroom with white marble tiles and a Jacuzzi so big it could have contained at least three Peters. In the closet, there were more drugs than first aid kits, but in the end he managed to find some disinfectant and a sterile dressing.  
When he got back to the “bar room”, Stark was trying to get up again and failing again. Peter rushed to help him, ““Wait, let me dress the wound first.”  
Stark was clearly too drunk to object and he just let himself fall on the floor again. Peter ignored his empty eyes and focused on the wounded hand, disinfecting it and trying to remove as much blood as he could. When he was satisfied with the result, he used the dressing to cover it while Stark was staring at him, lifeless.  
“Why are you here”, he said at one point, looking at something behind Peter, “I thought you left with the others”.  
What did he mean? Peter wasn’t supposed to hear that. Stark was drunk and completely unaware of where he was and with whom. It felt wrong to hear those words.  
“Are you able to stand?” he asked him, to try and change the subject. Stark immediately tried to get up for the umpteenth time, but with a useless hand and two wobbly legs, he just couldn’t do it. Peter took him in his arms and lifted him slowly from the floor, as he was no heavier than a child. Stark started laughing quietly and Peter couldn’t help but join him for a moment. The situation was, frankly, ridiculous: a skinny 15-year old boy carrying a much older and muscular dead weight of a man along a hallway. It was a stupid thought, but Peter felt stronger with every step.

He got in the closest bedroom and placed Stark on the bed. The man didn’t look good: his skin was a lot paler than usual, covered in sweat and blood. Peter was no expert, but it didn’t look like alcohol alone.  
“Thank you, Steve. You’re a friend”, said Stark smiling, and Peter’s heart sank in his chest. That’s what all that was about, of course it was. Once again, he felt like he was exploiting Stark’s drunkenness to gather information that wasn’t meant for him, so he just tried to ignore what he heard and focus on helping Stark by taking off his shoes and putting a blanket over him. Stark was already gone, his eyes closed and his mouth twisted in a painful expression.  
They weren’t friends, not really. Yet, Stark was the only person who knew everything about him, about Germany, the true extent of his powers, the features of the suit and what happened over the last few months. This had always made Peter feel like he knew Stark more than he actually did, like they were part of something only they could understand.  
He guessed that was what Stark had felt for the other Avengers who left after refusing to sign the Accords and he could only imagine how losing so many people he considered...family, in a certain sense, would hurt. How would he feel if he was to lose Stark?

A loud and sudden beep from his phone made Peter startle.

 

_Are you ready to go home? It’s late._

 

It was Happy. Could he abandon Stark in such a state? He was too vulnerable to be left alone and the house was deserted. The best option was probably to tell Happy the truth. He left the room for a moment, ready to call him and explain everything, but something told him not to. He could take care of Stark by himself.

 

_I’ve already left, Happy! Sorry, forgot to tell you. My aunt was nearby so she picked me up._

 

The message was quite convincing, Peter noticed with a smirk. When his strange, new life started he was so bad at lying he was surprised the whole world didn’t know already he was Spider-Man. Now he was getting better, lie after lie. It wasn’t a comforting thought, but it was necessary if he wanted Aunt May to live a normal life without freaking out every minute.  
Shit, Aunt May. She was probably starting to worry about him at that point and Peter hated lying to her and making her worry. He was doing both things at the same time that day. He decided to wait for her to call him first, so that he had time to make up a credible excuse.

When he went back into the bedroom, Stark’s eyes were open again, wide and hollow. He seemed to relax as soon as he saw Peter. “Where did you go?” he asked with a raspy voice, like he was struggling to talk.  
“I was just outside…” Peter started, but he stopped because he realized that Stark wasn’t really speaking to him. He was so strung out that he didn’t even know who he was at that point, let alone who Peter was. “I’m here”, he reassured him anyway.  
“Don’t leave me ever again”, Stark said under his breath and Peter felt the uncontrollable urge to hold him close and make him feel better. He almost reached out for his hand, but another loud beep from his phone made him take a step back.

 

_I can see that you’re with Mr Stark. CCTV. See you on the ground floor._

 

Happy didn’t believe his message, of course. He wasn’t getting better at lying, apparently, and now he seemed some kind of stalker who was in Stark’s bedroom. That evening kept getting better and better and Peter’s dumbness was more and more deserving of an award. Of course Stark had CCTV in his house, why did he lie to Happy?  
While Peter was typing his reply to the chauffeur, Stark moaned like he was in pain. There was no telling if it was physical or not and Peter didn’t know what to hope for.

 

_I want to stay, someone needs to take care of him._

 

Happy replied almost immediately.

 

_I’ll take care of him, I’ve already called someone. You need to go home to your aunt, kid._

 

He was right, of course. He had to go, to come up with some excuse for being late, do his homework, sleep in his twin bed and go to school the next day. He had to go back to the life that had felt so strangely...fake, lately.  
He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. He didn’t know what to say or if Stark could even hear him at that point.  
“Err...goodbye, Mr Stark? I have to go. I’ll come back tomorrow to see how you’re doing”, he promised.  
Stark opened his eyes and grab Peter’s left hand with his wounded right, squeezing it for a long moment before letting it go and closing his eyes again. Peter’s face, neck and ears turned purple and he really hoped nobody could see it from the CCTV footage.  
He retreated from the room in a hurry and fled to the ground floor to meet Happy.  
“I know I shouldn’t have lied to you and I’m sorry, let me get my suit and we can go”, he apologized as soon as he got to the entrance of the house, where Happy was waiting for him with an even less-happy face than usual.  
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, kid”, Happy reprimanded him, but Peter wasn’t really listening to him. He was already thinking about how to help Stark feeling better and he mentally listed all the ways he could do that during the journey home.

But the next day the vulnerable, wounded Tony Stark was replaced by the usual brash man who didn’t need any help.


	2. Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He kept thinking about Stark, how couldn’t he? The way he didn’t even look like Tony Stark, the things he said about Steve Rogers and the others, his eyes...Peter couldn’t forget his eyes. The few times he had seen Stark before, his eyes had been his favorite part of him. He liked how inquisitive they were, all the time, how they could x-ray you and fry you and you still wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. But that night there was nothing...alive in those eyes.

Staying up until dawn once or twice to see the sun rising was cool. Doing it almost every night was so not cool.

Peter’s enhanced senses wouldn’t let him fall asleep, the input being too much to just shut it down and ignore it. The sound of a TV in the building next to his, two cats fighting in an alley, the revolting smell of the dumpster at the end of the road: for Peter it was like they were all in his room in that moment, constantly beating up his nose and ears. He wasn’t good with analogies, but he could definitely _feel_ the punch.

If falling asleep was usually the worst part of his day, that night it was even worse. He kept thinking about Stark, how couldn’t he? The way he didn’t even look like Tony Stark, the things he said about Steve Rogers and the others, his eyes...Peter couldn’t forget his eyes. The few times he had seen Stark before, his eyes had been his favorite part of him. He liked how inquisitive they were, all the time, how they could x-ray you and fry you and you still wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. But that night there was nothing...alive in those eyes.

Was that the future that was waiting for him? Being broken, full of regrets, alone? Drunk maybe? (Not him, he didn’t like the taste of alcohol). Peter never thought about the future, despite May, his teachers, his friends, all talking about college and MIT and scholarships and extracurricular activities and incredibly cool jobs that would make him rich.

And suddenly there it was, the dawn. The light started to come through the edges of the window and he silently thanked the sun for rising a bit earlier every day, so that he could have an excuse to be already up when Aunt May would come into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing her eyes. He could finally leave his bed and stop pretending to sleep.

“I just wake up whenever it’s not dark anymore, we should buy new curtains”, he could tell his aunt each time she found him already up at five or six in the morning.

 

 

The morning wasn’t better than the night, as he sat on his chair at school waiting for it to be over. It’s not that he wasn’t interested - because he was. He was just too tired and school seemed the weirdest place to go to when you’re almost an Avenger.

 

_How’s Mr Stark?_

 

He texted Happy at lunchtime but didn’t get a reply. Not that he wasn’t expecting one, he knew Happy at that point. It was nothing personal.

  


 

But he was there as usual when Peter got out of school, waiting in his ugliest car - to avoid attracting too much attention. Peter started talking as soon as he opened the door, like he always used to do even though Happy ignored him every single time.

The chauffeur interrupted him immediately. “I’m taking you to the the Stark Industries lab today.”

Peter shifted in his seat. His jaw dropped.

“Wh-what? My stuff’s at Stark’s house and the lab…”

“There’s a lab there. Your things have been brought…”

He really hoped they’d been handled with care because some chemical compounds he was working on weren’t exactly stable, but that wasn’t his main thought.

“But what about Stark? Is he okay? I texted you…”

Happy eyed him through the rear-view mirror. “I’d never speak about Mr Stark’s health in a message. He’s fine, but you need to continue working.”

Peter knew that Happy was following orders and there was no way of convincing him to change his mind, so he just shut up. He didn’t surrender, though. He had his suit and his powers, so he could easily run away from every lab in the world.

 

It was indeed very easy in the end. Happy brought him to a facility so amazing that it took his breath away for a moment. The lab was small but it was all for Peter and it had some machinery whose purpose he couldn’t even guess. He almost decided to stay and just play around for a while, but that’s not how he worked. He helped people and Stark needed help, so the only parts of the lab he should be interested in were the windows.

He was already planning his escape while Happy was still telling him what he could and couldn’t do - why was the “do not” list always longer?

“You stay here, okay? You hear a noise, you stay here. You see something strange, you stay here. You want to leave? You stay here. Send me a message when you’re ready to leave and then stay here until I get here.”

“Yeah, sure” was Peter’s reply in his mind, but to avoid making Happy suspicious he just shrugged and nodded.

 

 

It didn’t take much effort to put on the suit and just leave through the windows after putting some music on to soften the noises. Ten minutes after Happy closed the door behind him he was already jumping from roof to roof, headed to Stark’s house. He really liked having his superpowers sometimes, when he wasn’t dying or something. It was a gorgeous afternoon and he hadn’t had some time alone with his suit and New York’s roofs for ages. Again, for a second Peter thought about enjoying the moment and forgetting about Stark, but soon blamed himself for his lack of focus. He was always so easily distracted.

 

 

When he got to Stark’s house he didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to ring the doorbell in his suit? Breaking into a billionaire’s house didn’t seem like a good idea, who knows what kind of alarms he had set up. He should’ve thought about that part of the plan before putting it into action.

He didn’t need to think about it much longer, though, as the front door opened in front of his eyes before he could decide. Peter looked around to try and identify who opened it for him, but there was nobody. He then stepped inside warily, ready to shoot his webs at the first sign of danger.

“Mr Stark?” he called without expecting a quick reply, which was the reason why he was so startled when it came.

“Good afternoon, Mr Parker!” Stark came out of a room on Peter’s left and greeted him with his usual impeccable appearance. Usual before their previous encounter, at least. He was wearing a blue suit, a burgundy tie and his trademark smirk. His eyes looked a bit tired, but apart from that nobody could tell the night he’d been gone through.  “I was waiting for you.”

Peter suddenly felt a bit stupid wearing his suit in the entrance of the luxurious house and took his mask off. Stark seemed fine and capable of taking care of himself, what was he thinking? To find him in bed, crying and calling for help? But then his eyes caught a glimpse of Stark’s wounded and bandaged hand, hidden behind the man’s back. Stark was just very good at lying.

“Waiting for me?” he asked.

“I’ve been told you left Stark Industries two seconds after your departure. I was expecting that, so I gave orders to let you go unharmed.”

Of course he knew. His escape had been too easy to be true and Peter felt even more stupid for believing it was all his incredible talent. He didn’t really know what to say about that, so he jumped to the topic he was most interested in.  “How are you?”

Stark didn’t seem annoyed by the question, which was a good thing. He was clearly expecting that and the reply he gave sounded scripted. “I’m fine”, he said, “Why don’t we relocate to the living room?”

He led the way to the big, bright room Peter had sometimes seen in Stark’s interviews. There was a big leather couch, a huge bar with four stools and a big screen that was almost cinema-size. Peter was more than happy to sit on the couch, while Tony stood near the bar with his back to him. He wished his senses or Karen could help him understand people, because sometimes it was the most difficult thing ever. Was Stark angry with him? He looked a bit more...snappy that day.

He was still worrying about that when Stark spoke and removed any doubt.  “Look, Peter”, he said, with the least snappy and angry voice he had ever heard coming from him, “I wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday and thank you for...”

“Apologize? N-no”, Peter moved too fast on the couch and his suit produced an embarrassing noise in contact with the leather, “I understand, there is nothing…”

“Will you ever learn not to interrupt me?” Stark turned around and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t look annoyed for real, so Peter decided to continue.

“I just want you to know that I understand what you’re going through and I’m truly sorry and if there’s anything I can help with, I’m here, you know, a-as Peter, not as Spider-Man, despite the suit I’m wearing, but I needed it to come here.” Shut up, shut up, that’s not relevant to what you’re talking about...

Stark’s smirk widened as he approached the couch and sat beside Peter with a sigh. “I need you to focus on yourself. Go to school, be awesome at it, hang out with your friends, then have a bit of fun and try out your designs at Stark Industries…”

“But why Stark Industries, why not here?”

Peter realized that he sounded like a 5-year-old kid who wanted to go to the amusement park, but it was too late to take it back. The lab was amazing, but his whole work was getting boring without a bit of advice. He needed to work with Stark and he just wanted to be...close to him. Help him, keep him company, learn from him.

Stark shook his head.  “You don’t get it? Anything could’ve happened yesterday, you shouldn’t have been here and for your safety it’s better if you…”

“Safety?”, Peter couldn’t believe his ears, “Nothing I do is safe, Mr Stark, I almost died at least four times this year and at this point I don’t think my life will ever be safe, because, you know, it’s just not possible.”

Stark opened his mouth, clearly annoyed that Peter interrupted him again, but then he closed it again and remained in silence, his face changing expression. He looked guilty and embarrassed, like somebody who got caught. When he spoke again, his voice was lower and he sounded very uneasy.

“This is something different, Peter. It’s personal and you shouldn’t have seen me in that state. It could happen again.”

“But somebody had to see you, otherwise how can people take care of you? If you push people away you’ll end up feeling worse and being alone never helps with this kind of problems, you can’t say that it can happen again like it’s nothing that you can prevent and…”

“When did you become this wise and mature?” Stark joked and looked at him like Peter was some kind of naive kid. Well, he was, but that wasn’t the point.

Peter saw his joke as a sign that Stark was reconsidering his decision, so he took the lead and stood up. He could be very convincing when he wanted to and that was the moment to show it.

“Okay then”, he ran to the door, “we’ll go to the lab and create something _amazing_ today - well, your hand is kind of out of service so if you want I can be your hands and you can guide me - but it’ll be _amazing_ , we never worked together but I feel we can do something so big…”

Stark started laughing at that point, shaking his head and trying to stop Peter with his good hand. “I’m an adult and I have to work unlike someone else here, I can’t just _be amazing_ and…”

“But you can! Just for today, take a day off, take off the elegant suit - I mean, put on something else, more comfortable, I didn’t mean ‘take it off here and now’, it wasn’t…” Peter’s ears became purple as he tried to stop the embarrassing flow of words before it became even worse. Why did he always have to say such stupid things to the wrong people in the wrong moments? Where did that even come from, Stark wouldn’t have noticed the double meaning if he hadn’t corrected himself. He tried to make it better.  

“Just for today, please...Tony”, that was risky, he’d never called Stark “Tony” before, but calling him “Mr Stark” seemed too impersonal all of a sudden.

Tony sat speechless for a moment or two, as he looked at Peter with his usual inquisitive gaze. Peter would have paid the money he didn’t have to know what he was seeing in him or looking for. He suddenly understood that Tony was considering kicking him out of the house and getting dead drunk when the man’s eyes darted to the bar for a brief moment and darkened, before returning to Peter.

“Okay, kid, show me what you're working on at the moment, impress me.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile. He had won and it was a nice new feeling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for all the kudos, I was very afraid of the reception (also because...underage, we're all going to hell). The story will have 10 chapters, more or less, and I'll try to update once a week.


	3. Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The whole mentor thing was not what he had intended, it just happened. He saw the way Peter looked up to him and tried to impress him, he wasn’t blind. And that was what scared him the most, the responsibility of shaping someone else’s life. Peter was too innocent, too bright, too fresh. And Tony was an utter mess."

“That kid’s doing you good, Tony”.

The sun was setting outside, and Tony and Rhodey were sipping their alcohol-free drinks after a rich Chinese dinner. Peter had left a couple of hours before, looking happier than usual after having spent the afternoon with Tony.

“I’m serious”, Rhodey insisted, “look at you today. You look like shit, but a better shit than the last few months.”

The bottom of the glass reflected Tony’s frown. The kid was doing him good and what was he giving in return?

“You were against this”, he pointed out. Everyone was against recruiting a teenager and they were all right. No doubts about that. He made Peter risk his life and lie to the people he loved even more than he did before.

“I was, but look, he needed a mentor and you needed...someone to care for?” Rhodey gave him an inquisitive look, as he wanted to gauge the effects of his own words on Tony’s face.

“He could have a better mentor.”

“Well, I guess there’s a shortage of inspiring superheroes at the moment.”

Of course, he meant Steve. The inspiring superhero by definition, the touchstone for everyone else. The air in the room became a little heavier, but Tony chose to ignore it and poured himself another drink. The whole mentor thing was not what he had intended, it just happened. He saw the way Peter looked up to him and tried to impress him, he wasn’t blind. And that was what scared him the most, the responsibility of shaping someone else’s life. Peter was too innocent, too bright, too fresh. And Tony was an utter mess.

“Look, Tony, you’re doing your best, okay? Just look after him like you wish someone had done with you.”

 

 

When Rhodey left, he almost had a scotch.

 

  
  


The following morning it was Saturday and Peter was grateful he could stay in bed and rest for a bit longer. He was exhausted from all the work he did the previous day with Stark - well, Tony. He was trying to call him Tony at that point, but it was hard. He’d always called him Stark in his head since he was a kid thinking about his hero.

Something great happened when they were in the lab the day before: a quick glance, a gesture or a nod of the head was enough for Tony and Peter to understand what the other wanted. It seemed like they were made to work together and Peter felt very proud of himself for being able to keep up with the genius. The new prototype for the webwings Peter had been thinking about was now a close reality and almost all his ideas had been taken into account by Tony. He wished he could tell somebody, maybe Aunt May – to make her proud – or Flash – to make him jealous. Everyone at the school would have killed for a second in the same room as Tony Stark; he spent a whole afternoon working with him at his house. Nobody would even believe him. He wondered if he could tell Ned, just to make it a bit more real, but he needed to be careful with that. Ned was the best guy he knew, but he was also unpredictable at times. He could end up telling the whole school. And more importantly, he didn’t want to reveal anything about the night he found Tony drunk and on the floor, not even to Ned.

They didn’t talk about that night again. They had worked in silence all afternoon, until Peter got a call from a very angry Aunt May and Tony let him go, barely looking and waving at him before getting back to work. Peter was happy to see him so absorbed and wondered if it was enough to keep him far from the bottle for that night. Or maybe Peter was overthinking a simple hangover that all adults had once in a while. He didn’t really know.

 

Peter’s weekend was quite boring: a backlog of homework was waiting for him. When he was finished, he played an RPG for a while on his old PlayStation 3 – he’d have sold a kidney for a PlayStation 4 – but his head felt crammed with too much stuff. Not even gaming had been the same after his life turned in a bad superhero story and he started fighting bad guys for real. He had his suit, but May was at home from work all Sunday and she seemed too happy to spend time with him to make up some excuses and run away. Peter was happy to spend some time with her too and offered to go out and get some Indian takeaway food – the fact that he would have been alone on his way to and back from the restaurant might have played a role in the offer.

As soon as he got out of the house, he took out his phone and absentmindedly looked at the contacts. He didn’t have Tony’s personal number, only Happy’s. Chances were that he could have been with Stark, so Peter just called.

“Kid, it’s Sunday night, what the…”

“Hey Happy, it’s Peter” – he heard Happy sighing – “is Mr Stark with you?” What could he say, that he wanted to check if he was okay? That sounded stupid. He sounded stupid.

“Of course not, it’s Sunday night. I’ll pick you up at school tomorrow, now…”

“Is he alright?”

Happy had already hung up, without even telling Peter if he was going to bring him to Tony’s house or to Stark Industries the next day. Great. There wasn’t much else he could do, so he just counted on the cheese naan to distract him from his thoughts.

 

 

When school finished on Monday and the bell finally rang, Peter sighed and hit his head on the desk. Michelle affectionately mouthed the word “Loser” as a goodbye and left him there.

It hadn’t been an easy morning. As usual, he barely slept the night before and his eyes were swollen and painful. On top of that, he managed to outsmart Flash in front of the whole Biology class without having really studied. He earned the teacher’s temporary praise but Flash’s eternal hatred. It was easy to feel very good about it at first, just looking at Flash’s eyes becoming narrower and narrower, but Peter knew better. There was going to be some kind of retaliation after that and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He considered putting on his suit and leave through the roof, but he didn’t want to piss off Happy even more by not showing up where he should. So, he embraced his destiny, took his backpack and dragged his feet out of school.

Luck seemed to be on his side at first, as he stepped out of the gates and didn’t see anybody waiting for him. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

_Parking lot, behind the school._

 

Happy got a new phone number, apparently. He was about to type a quick _okay_ when he heard a familiar voice laughing behind him.

“Hey, Penis Parker! Where’s your chauffeur?” Flash was walking towards him, hands in his pockets, surrounded by a bunch of overly annoying classmates. “Is he your chauffeur or your sugar daddy? Or both? You didn’t choose him wisely, looking at the crappy cars he own…”

Peter’s fists clenched as everyone burst in laughter, still following him. If only they knew who Happy was and that it was Peter who begged him to use old cars to pick him up. He almost regretted the decision for a moment, but he had better things to do than trying to impress Flash and his stupid friends.

“Are you doing your Stark Industries internship in that creepy guy’s bedroom?”

Another round of loud laughter, before someone cried “Penis Parker’s sad adventures!”

“Penis Parker! Penis Parker! Penis Parker!” they all chanted then, clapping their hands to keep the rhythm.

Peter continued to walk towards the parking lot, breathing heavily and squeezing his phone in his hand. Ignoring was the best strategy - everyone told him - yet it didn’t bring him very far. He hated Happy for not waiting for him in front of the school as usual. What the hell was that about?

“Penis Parker! Penis Parker! Penis Parker!”

Finally, he walked around the corner and saw a car waiting for him in the damn parking lot. It wasn’t a plain, easy to ignore black car as usual. It was a shiny and new red sports car.

“Penis Parker! Penis Parker!”

“Hey kids, how was school?”

Tony Stark himself was getting out of the car, handsome and…rich-looking as usual in a very elegant black suit and a pair of sunglasses that probably cost more than Peter’s house. The chant immediately stopped as Flash and the others stared in disbelief and their jaws dropped.

“Ready for a bit of work, Peter? I’m very curious about that new chemical compound you showed me yesterday.”

The silence that followed was filled with a mixture of shock and admiration as Flash looked at Tony like he was looking at God. Peter blushed and didn’t reply because he was stupid – as he told himself ten minutes later, when he regained the ability to think – but he didn’t need to. The faces of the others looking at him getting in that car with Tony waving and smiling at them was enough of a reply. When Tony pushed on the gas, they all looked like they were having an orgasm.

Tony waved once again while they were getting out of the parking lot. “Wave, Peter”, he commanded and Peter turned around to wave and couldn’t help but laugh at Flash’s horrified face. Tony was smirking.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come” said Peter, with his voice still a bit higher than usual after having laughed hard. He was in utter disbelief.

“I guess you don’t mind now”. Tony seemed particularly satisfied with himself and Peter shook his head. “Penis Parker?”

Great, now Tony Stark knew the nickname. The man he’d been trying to impress for months had just called him “Penis”: a fantastic achievement. Peter’s ears turned violet and every trace of laughter disappeared from his face.

“It’s a stupid nickname”, was all he managed to say, looking out of the window.

“We shouldn’t allow them to call you that.”

Oh. Tony was not going to make fun of him, not in that way. And he used the pronoun “we” like he was actually involved in the matter.

He smiled. “I think that after today I’ll be okay for a while.”

“Didn’t you tell them you knew me? I thought you’d told everyone we were the best of friends.”

“I don’t go around bragging about you or anything else.” They all thought he couldn’t keep a secret for some reason, while he constantly felt like he was living a lie.

“That’s good to hear”, commented Tony like he was actually relieved for some strange reason. What was he thinking? That Peter told someone about the night he found Tony completely wasted? Was that the only reason why he was keeping Peter close, to make sure he didn’t tell anybody?

They didn’t talk for the rest of the journey.

 

 

They didn’t have to talk much even when they got to Stark’s house and started working in the lab: as happened the first time, they were able to understand each other without words. And Peter was speechless anyway, because being able to work with Tony again was awesome. Tony was awesome, Peter couldn’t help but think while watching the man building a prototype of the new webwings. If someone had asked him what he wanted the most when he was a kid he would have pictured something very similar to that moment: looking at Tony Stark thinking, discovering, creating. It was a privilege he felt very lucky to experience. And Tony was so absorbed in the task that Peter could stare without him noticing: his lips were pressed together and sweat was running down his forehead. The stylish suit was now ragged, the jacket forgotten and the shirt sleeves rolled up, but he didn’t seem to care. He was somehow more handsome this way, with scruffy hair and...

“Peter?”

“What?”

He stared a moment too long.

“Is everything okay?” Fortunately Tony seemed more concerned than creeped out.

“Yeah, of course, yeah, I’m just...tired, I guess, you know, school.” School was always the perfect excuse for everything, being a teenager was awesome.

Tony was apparently convinced by his poor argument, probably because there were two very visible dark circles under Peter’s eyes. “Prototype’s ready. Put on the suit so we can see if it’s a good idea or not”, he told Peter, throwing his suit at him.

Good, he had something to do so that he could stop being awkward. He stood up immediately and took off his t-shirt - where Yoda was reminding him to “do or do not” because “there is no try” - before unbuttoning his trousers.

“I was going to suggest the bathroom, but I suppose that works too.”

Peter looked up and realized he was standing half naked in front of Tony, who was looking at his bare chest strangely.

“It’s...a habit” he tried to explain.

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Of getting naked in front of people? I hope not, you’re 15”.

Peter hoped for the floor to crack and swallow him forever. His skin was burning from the hairline to the toes and with his enhanced senses it felt like hell. Of course he didn’t mean that but trying to explain was out of question at that point because his throat was burning too much. He just meant that he was used to putting on the suit very quickly and in public places.

Tony casually turned to the other side and started working on something Peter couldn’t see. “Hey, I was joking, just joking”, he reassured him giving his back to Peter, but he sounded embarrassed. “Put on that suit and let’s get some fresh air.”

 

The prototype turned out great and Tony complimented him on his idea. The cool air of the late afternoon eased his mind and he soon forgot about that strange moment.

But that was only the first of many strange moments to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to have kept you waiting! Truth is, I hated this chapter, but after a while I just decided to post it and move on. I hope it's not too bad! The descent into hell will start very soon :)


	4. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He kept thinking about Tony and how much his life had changed in only one week. He just wanted to go back there and he was well aware that it was an irrational need that he couldn’t explain. Yes, Tony Stark had always been his hero and role model. Yes, the fact that he was a superhero too made him the perfect person to teach him how to handle his new life with superpowers. But he didn’t think about Tony’s brilliance or his own superpowers once while they were together earlier, so how was the matter? It seemed he had almost a physical need to be with him and he had no explanation whatsoever for it."

_I wanna love you, but I better not touch (don't touch)_

_I wanna hold you, but my senses tell me to stop_

_I wanna kiss you, but I want it too much (too much)_

_I wanna taste you, but your lips are venomous poison_

 

The music was far too loud for Peter to focus properly on what he had to do, but he would have never told Tony, who was mouthing the lyrics and keeping the rhythm with his feet. He would have never broken the perfect routine they had fallen into since that Monday when he convinced Tony to work together: Tony would text him a location near the school and Peter would put on his suit, jump through some roofs and meet him there. They hadn’t discussed it, it just happened and then it happened again and again, every single day. They would then go to Tony’s house and work, mostly in silence. It had been the same for four days in a row at that point and Peter was starting to think that Tony enjoyed his company, or he wouldn’t have continued to have him there. The thought was enough to make him proud of himself, more than anything else he could do as Spider-Man or Peter Parker. He had never dreamed of becoming a superhero with super strength and enhanced senses – well, he did sometimes but not regularly. He had always dreamed of meeting Tony Stark and being able to see him at work.

 

It was Friday again and it was the first time Peter wasn’t looking forward to the weekend’s rest in a very long time.

 

_You're poison runnin’ through my veins_

_You're poison, I don't wanna break these chains._

 

He guessed that that was the refrain of the song, because Tony started signing under his breath and he was surprisingly good at it. Seeing him so carefree was strange and surprising: his face looked younger and his tone of voice fuller.

“Who is it?” asked Peter when the refrain ended, genuinely curious about the song that Tony liked that much.

“Who is who?”

“The singer.”

Tony’s eyes darted from the piece he was working on at that moment to Peter’s face. “What do you mean who is - you’ve never heard this song before?”

The silence that followed told Peter that he should have. “Nope.”

“Poison!”

“As the name of the band?” It was a cool name for a band, wasn’t it?

“Kid, are you serious? Well, there’s a quite famous rock band called Poison, but never mind – this is Alice Cooper! Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him too. Creepy dude with great make up?”

Peter felt very young and very ignorant. It happened often when he was with Tony, but this was a new low, considering how upset Tony seemed. Was that song really that important for him? “Well, yeah, maybe, the name sounds a bit familiar…” he lied.

The screwdriver Tony was using fell on the workbench with a loud clang. “Okay, forget the Avengers, forget Spider-Man. We have another training to do here, and it’s called rock music.”

  
  


 

 

The room where they relocated was so amazing that Peter couldn’t keep his mouth closed for two solid minutes. It had an enormous screen and a sound system that made him want to squeal. It also had incredibly comfy couches, as Peter realized as soon as he let himself fall onto one.

How could someone be that rich? And, most importantly, still want to spend time with him – Peter thought. That was the coolest part of it all.

Tony didn’t waste a minute. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, turn on the tv, Channel 73”.

“What is Channel 73?” asked Peter.

“Something I created some years ago, with the best music videos in the history of rock music and the best performances from rock concerts. Almost fifty hours of music.”

Peter looked at him with his mouth opened but didn’t comment.

“What? I had more free time on my hands those days”, Tony shrugged and sat beside him.

And then the teaching session started and Peter found himself staring at the screen in utter awe for the next three or four hours.

There were Freddie Mercury and Robert Plant, Ozzy Osbourne and Roger Daltrey, Jimi Hendrix and Lemmy Kilmister. David Bowie’s magnetic eyes and Janis Joplin’s powerful voice.

Tony gave him some random details about the albums and the gigs and the bands, but most of the times he just let the music talk. He did look at Peter’s face every time there was a famous riff to see his reaction, but Peter pretended he didn’t notice. He couldn’t understand if Tony was so willing to share that stuff with him because he liked him and he really wanted him to improve his musical knowledge or because he hadn’t had anybody else to share things with for a long time. The thought made him sad and even more eager to please him, so he clapped enthusiastically while Tony played air guitar during AC/DC’s Highway to Hell.

He seemed younger. So much younger. Peter felt that he wasn’t a mentor or a father figure to him. He was much more of a friend? And he couldn’t say if that was wrong. Aunt May had always told him to avoid befriending older people, but Iron Man was no “older people”, he was just Iron Man. Everyone would kill to be friends with Iron Man.

“Okay, the next one is very long but inescapable: Stairway to Heaven, Led Zeppelin, 1971, from the album Led Zeppelin IV.”

“Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones, John Bonham”, Peter recalled, feeling quite proud of himself, since he could remember all their names.  

Tony shrugged and smiled. “I’ve got nothing else to teach you, my young Padawan.”

Peter promised himself he’d come to know all the rock bands in the world, if that could earn him the amazed look Tony was giving him.

 

A loud beep came from Peter’s pocket and forced him to break eye contact. He took out the phone and looked distractedly at the time and he couldn’t help but swear. It was Aunt May: she was pissed in the earlier texts, worried in the most recent ones.

“Shit, I mean, sorry…I have to go, May and I always go out for dinner on my birthday, so I’m already…”

Tony looked at him like he was speaking another language. “Your birthday? Today?”

To be completely honest, Peter kind of forgot. He never liked celebrating his birthday – maybe because the date was so close to when his parents died and he always thought about them all day – so it really wasn’t that big of a deal. “Uhm, yeah.”

“You should have told me, I would have let you go sooner if I knew, you probably wanted to spend time with your friends, or your aunt, or…” Tony got up and started fumbling around with drawers.

“No, it was fine.” It was more than fine, it was the best birthday he had spent in ages. Peter really wanted to tell him, but it sounded cheesy and pathetic. Every word was stuck in his throat and couldn’t get out. Tony didn’t need to “let him go”, he wanted to stay and he’d have liked to stay even longer. Because he was feeling good, he was feeling important. It was probably the most stupid thing in the world, but the fact that Tony genuinely liked spending time with him was the best thing that had happened in his life in a very long time. Or maybe ever.

And everything he could say was “fine”. He really wondered what was happening to him.

“I can’t let you go without a present, though.” Tony ignored his protests and disappeared into another room, coming back a few moments later with something in his hands. It was an iPod, latest model, of course. “There, it has my playlist already set up. I’d call it homework, but it’s for your own good, you could do with some AC/DC”, he told him with a smirk.

The stupid lump in Peter’s throat didn’t let him say thank you, so he just nodded and put the iPod in his pocket.

“Off you go, now, or your aunt will kill me.”

Peter had already reached the door in silence, when he stopped and turned back. “Will I see you on Monday?”

A strange expression appeared on Tony’s face for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by the usual, self-confident look. “Sure.”

  
  
  


 

 

_I don’t like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family._

 

The words Steve wrote in his letter echoed in Tony’s ears, as he watched his own reflection in the big bathroom mirror. Steve was right, as always. He wasn’t a person who could be alone, yet people kept leaving him and he was indeed rattling around a mansion by himself. Not that he could blame them, really. He thought about Pepper and how she tried and tried and tried and failed like everybody else. He wasn’t a person who could be alone, but maybe he should.

And now there was Peter in his life. He never wanted a son, let alone some kind of disciple who saw him as a mentor. A mentor, Tony? He could mentor anyone who’d want to fuck up badly, he’d be good at that.

 

_That kid’s doing you good, Tony._

 

Rhodey didn’t understand why Tony didn’t like those words. It was the same story all over again. Pepper did him good – how many people told him he was a different man, a new man? – and he just made her life a living hell. The Avengers did him good – he had a purpose, a family – and everything went to shit. When Rhodey said those words his first instinct was to never see Peter again.

Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t. He picked him up at school, spent time with him day after day, got attached. What was he thinking?

He guessed there was something in the way Peter looked at him that Tony hadn’t seen for such a long time.

But it had to stop, because he couldn’t risk ruining his life as well. Or seeing him leaving like everybody else.

Anxiety swamped him like waves: the first wave hit his chest and made his breathing ragged. He tried to inhale and exhale deeply, but the second wave hit him and he started shaking. He reached out for the anti-anxiety meds he kept in his cabinet and took a couple of pills without water, trying hard not to think. But the thoughts he was trying to keep at bay came anyway.

Peter wounded or killed in action, his aunt’s hatred because it’d been Tony’s fault. Peter becoming like him, losing his humility and his innocence. All his fault. Always his fault.

The phone that Steve sent him was locked and hidden in his bedroom and for a short moment he thought about calling him.

 

_If you need me, I’ll be there_.

 

No, he didn’t need anybody. He just needed to drink.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

The planes flying over Queens were particularly loud that night, and Peter was listening to Black Sabbath to cover the noise. He went out with a grumpy Aunt May for dinner, after he apologized profusely for ignoring her all day and coming home that late. He made her forgive him by faking smiles all night, while thinking about how far Monday seemed. He almost felt guilty for thinking about being with Tony when he was with her, because she was the person he loved the most in the world. He made sure he thanked her at least a thousand times when she gave him her present: a new, super sturdy anti-theft backpack.

But after dinner he told her he was too tired to watch a movie together and went to his room to lie on the bed. He needed to be alone for a while with his new iPod to keep him company. He told May he was tired, but, not surprisingly, he couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about Tony and how much his life had changed in only one week. He just wanted to go back there and he was well aware that it was an irrational need that he couldn’t explain. Yes, Tony Stark had always been his hero and role model. Yes, the fact that he was a superhero too made him the perfect person to teach him how to handle his new life with superpowers. But he didn’t think about Tony’s brilliance or his own superpowers once while they were together earlier, so how was the matter? It seemed he had almost a physical need to be with him and he had no explanation whatsoever for it.

The iPod felt warm in his hands and he switched it off all of a sudden, putting it on the bedside table. He could see from the alarm clock that it was 3 am already, so he sighed and closed his eyes, hoping that his brain and his senses would just let him rest.

After a minute, his phone vibrated.

With a strange feeling in his guts, he rushed to see who texted him.

 

_Please come here_

 

It took him two seconds to get out of bed and another thirty seconds to put on his suit, before jumping out of the window into the night.

  
  
  


 

 

 

The main door of the mansion was already open when Peter got there, but the lights were off and F.R.I.D.A.Y didn’t greet him as usual. The darkness and the silence made the usually elegant entrance appear almost ghastly.

“Tony?” he whispered, anxiety already tightening his chest. He got no reply, so he slowly made his way through the hallway, trying to catch any sound coming from Tony with his augmented hearing. When he finally heard his breathing coming from upstairs, he ran up the stairs in a second and got into the room where they listened to Tony’s favorite music that very same day.

Tony was sprawled on the couch with an arm touching the floor, where an empty bottle of scotch lied. Peter crouched down beside him and put a hand on his forehead.

“Tony, I’m here.”

Tony’s eyes opened halfway, and a grin appeared on his face. “You came. In the suit.” His hand reached out for Peter’s and squeezed it. That simple gesture made Peter worry even more, as it was definitely not in Tony’s character.

“Of course I came”. Tony was still grinning but his eyes were carrying the same empty suffering Peter saw the first night he’d found Tony in that state. “Let’s get you to bed now…”

“I don’t want to go. Let’s go outside. On the terrace.”

That didn’t sound like a good idea, but Peter didn’t really know how to take care of a drunk person. He’d never done it before. Besides, he couldn’t say no to Tony, so he just nodded and took him in his arms – for the second time in two weeks.

Unexpectedly, Tony started laughing out loud as soon as Peter lifted him.

“What are you laughing about?” Peter asked, stopping right before the stairs that led to the upper floors.

“You’re just so…tiny, but strong”, Tony could barely say while laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

“Hey, I’m as tall as you are!” replied Peter, but laughed with him, his heart a bit warmer now that Tony seemed able to joke again.

He carried him up the stairs, with Tony’s arms resting around his neck and the head leaning on his shoulder. It was maybe embarrassing and a bit weird, but Peter liked having him so close. It was a stupid thought, but Peter felt that it was easier to protect him that way, to shield him from everyone and, most of all, from himself. Tony’s hair tickled his chin, but he didn’t mind.

When they got upstairs and went outside, Peter had to stop for a moment. The terrace was on top of the building and the 360 degrees view one could enjoy there was breath-taking. It was breath-taking for Peter too, but not for the same reasons as everyone else. The noises, the smells and the sights of the throbbing city pumping underneath their feet were so overwhelming that Peter found himself flinching at the unbearable amount of data that hit his senses. He had to focus on Tony’s warm body between his arms to try and ignore the waves of nausea without falling to the floor. It wasn’t easy, but Peter managed to carry him to a cosy area with some chairs and a coffee table and put him on a big lounger.

Tony was intensively looking at him, though, as Peter was some kind of weird alien he was trying to understand. “You’re not okay.” Observant as always, even when drunk.

Peter shrugged and closed his eyes, trying to fight another wave of nausea. “It’s just the city, too much data. It’s never this bad because I get less input than this, I guess.” He had to sit on the lounger next to Tony because he got lightheaded.

Two warm hands rested on Peter’s ears and his senses were hit by Tony’s breathing, his smell of scotch and expensive perfume, his heart pumping slowly and lazily. They’d never been that close before.

“Breathe. Try to feel my hands and nothing else.”

Peter’s skin burnt under his suit, as Tony’s touch was fire. He had to open his eyes and look at Tony’s, which were so different from the usual bright, distant stare he had always given him. There was nothing distant in them and Peter had to open his mouth as well to breath properly. Everything was too much, the warmth of Tony’s body beside him making him pant.

“Inhale, exhale. Close your eyes for me again.” Tony’s thumbs slowly brushed Peter’s cheeks and Peter finally surrendered. Tony continued to caress his face with a slow, steady rhythm and Peter’s breathing slowly started to normalize. The city was far and remote: Tony was everything there was, the only thing he could smell, see, hear.

“Tony”, he whispered, not knowing what he wanted to say.

“I’m here.”

When he opened them again, Peter’s eyes were captured by Tony’s parted lips.

He had to kiss them.

The realization hit him for the first time and after that one others came like a stream. He had to tell him how much he cared for him.  He had to pull him closer and see if his body was as warm as the burning air between them. He had to feel his bare skin against his.

“Please”, he couldn’t help but let out a needy breath when he saw Tony looking at his lips as well, with an undoubted look of lust.

“Don’t.” Tony brushed Peter’s lips with a finger that lingered for what seemed an eternity. Then he broke the contact between their skin. “I got you”, he whispered and smiled, all lust disappearing from his face.

Peter took a moment to catch his breath and make it all go away, then smiled back. “I got you first”, he replied, hoping the cold air of the night would make his flushed cheeks become pale again, “who called who?”

“You do like being a superhero, don’t you?” joked Tony, before lying down on the lounger where they were sitting and turning to the other side.

Now that Tony was no longer looking at him, Peter brought a hand to his chest to try and breathe properly again, but the impact of what had almost happened was tightening his throat. He wanted Tony, he wanted Tony so badly that now that they had parted his skin was screaming with the need to touch him again. It was so wrong and immoral and disgusting that it made him sick again. He had to leave, to run as far as he could back to safety and never see Tony again.

“Thank you, Peter.” It was a quiet and weak murmur that Peter almost missed.

He had to leave, yet he couldn’t help but stay and lie down on the lounger beside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry I've disappeared for a whole month! Unfortunately, real life took over: I had to move house twice (!)  
> But here we are. Something will definitely happen in the next chapter, now that things have moved.   
> Thank you as always for all the kudos and the comments! <3


End file.
